Jerat Cinta Pak Dosen

Stephanie:

“I knew from the very beginning that this wedding would be a waste of our time. Tell me why the bride is at the altar and we are all waiting for the groom, who is nowhere to be found.” I heard my stepmother whisper to someone who was sitting beside her.

It wasn’t really a whisper; she had no intention of keeping her voice low, or else I shouldn’t have heard her words from this distance.

She scoffed, “Or are we perhaps waiting for the groom to walk down the aisle? How unconventional, and what a joke.”

A joke. Exactly. My gaze fell on the bouquet of flowers. I wrapped my fingers around them, unable to tighten my fists because how on earth are these yellow roses at fault when Cole was the one who suffered from what? An overactive bladder was what he called it. He told me he had to relieve himself, or else our vows would be interrupted by his bladder.

I had wanted my wedding to be different, but not this different. The plan was to walk down together. I wasn’t sure what superstitions he held, but Cole decided we walked down the aisle together.

And without much thought, I had agreed, because I genuinely didn’t care about anything else as long as at the end of the day we were married. Finally married after five years of dating. And after almost ten years of pining after him and watching him skip from one woman to another and another before deciding it was my time to be picked.

Maybe I was blind and had ignored all his red shining flags, which I should have seen, but the truth was, I didn’t have much of a choice.

My mom was still in the hospital, dying with failing kidneys, and every day the doctors kept reminding me about the money needed for her surgery. Money I didn’t have. Money my father wouldn’t spare even if I went on my knees.

I knew marrying into Cole’s rich family meant I could at least breathe, then get a loan, or get someone to sign a check. I told myself once I got the money and settled Mom’s bills, I’d find a way to pay it back. So if I overlooked the little things, that is, the cheating rumors and the way he treated me sometimes, it wasn’t because I was stupid. I was just desperate.

With every minute that passed whereby I had to stand at the altar alone, I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

“It’s been up to an hour. How much longer do we have to wait for the bride… sorry, groom?” The officiant asked, leaning closer to me. I wasn’t sure if that was an attempt at a joke, but I wanted to tell him it wasn’t funny, except I was getting worried.

“Five more minutes.” I pleaded and watched the old man’s face wrinkle as he nodded and stepped back.

The murmurings soon increased, and with every word that found its way to my ears, the more the humiliation itched its way into my heart, tearing it apart without mercy.

I glanced at my side, and my gaze fell on Sloane Finch, my best friend, who hadn’t been in support of this wedding but had come anyway since this was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life.

“Should I check up on him?” She asked, tucking a strand of her neat brown hair behind her ear as she leaned closer, her hazel eyes searching mine worriedly.

I shook my head and gave her a small smile as she added bitterly, “That asshole, he better have a reason for this. And if the reason is anything but slipping on the toilet and hitting his head on something, which made him fall unconscious, then I’ll gladly kill him myself.”

I hope that happened too, because there was no other reason that could excuse this disrespect. My gaze fell on my father, who was sitting right beside my stepmom, looking stiff and checking his phone every two minutes. I could tell he couldn’t wait to leave. That didn’t surprise me much, and I tried to not let it affect me.

Had it been Anna, my stepsister, who had been standing by the altar alone, I am fairly certain he would have long since stood up to go and find the groom and drag him to the altar, conscious or unconscious.

The officiant murmured displeasingly beside me.

More than an hour and some minutes have passed, so I dragged my wedding gown up enough so I wouldn't stumble on it before walking away from the altar and down the aisle.

“I can’t believe I came all the way for this joke.” I heard someone say as I stepped outside the wedding hall.

I haven’t had the last laugh yet, but soon. I murmured to myself as I climbed the stairs of the grand hotel we had booked, or actually Cole’s family had booked as a wedding gift to us.

By the time I got upstairs, I walked down the hallway, counting the room numbers and searching for the one that was specifically for the groom.

B11…B12, 13. Yes, B13.

I stopped in front of the door and nodded, reaching for the door handle and pulling it low, pushing it open slightly.

Nothing on earth would have prepared me for the sight in the room. Cole was there, but he wasn’t unconscious as I had hoped. He was on the bed in his full naked glory, and a woman with dirty blond hair was bouncing atop him with her head thrown back as she cried out his name.

“Fuck, Anna. I should just cancel the wedding instead of marrying your four-eyed sister.” His words stabbed harder than any blade.

Four… four-eyed? I pushed my glasses from the bridge of my nose. Was that what he called me behind my back?

“She isn’t my sister,” the woman moaned, shamelessly correcting him.

“Well, I wish I had met you first.” He slapped her backside, and her laugh was so familiar.

One I had grown accustomed to hearing for the past twenty-two years of my life.

The bouquet slipped from my fingers, falling to the floor beside my feet, along with my heart, but I didn’t even hear them fall.

If I had been a little wiser, I would have stepped out because I had seen enough. Except I couldn't believe the sight in front of me, which froze me completely.

Cole groaned as he grabbed the woman’s—Anna’s—backside.

Anna… Anna? It felt like a bucket of water was splashed right on my face as I soon realized that there was only one person I knew with dirty blonde hair whose name was Anna and who happened to be my stepsister.

Finally, I found my voice. “What’s going on here?”